Zero to Obsessed

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From: Laura's NYC Tales <laura@laurasnyctales.com>
To: Stefan von Eigenmann <voneigenmann@hotmail.com>
Subject: Need your advice!

I'm writing now because I need your advice. It's regarding this new guy in my office.

We chat a bit from day to day, and I've since developed a MAJOR crush on him. He's totally gorgeous, and smart, too. He seems receptive when I engage him in conversation, but we're always in the office, so all interactions have to be very proper. There's a possibility he might be interested in me, but it's hard to tell for sure.

What should (or shouldn't) I do? What signals should I look for that would show he's interested in me? I'm dyin' here. You've got to help me! Haven't I helped you when you've needed advice?

If you write back soon, I'll send a sexy pic. Promise.

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From: Stefan von Eigenmann <voneigenmann@hotmail.com>
To: Laura's NYC Tales <laura@laurasnyctales.com>
Subject: Re: Need your advice!

Deeeeear Laura,

von Eigenmann's Rule #1: Don't piss in your bath water.

Gettin' it from someone you work with is just too risky. Especially if the guy is "above" you on the food chain. If things go awry, it'll be you that gets axed.

Then again, what do they say about rules being made to be broken or something?...If you just have to bed this guy then you should be direct. As a man, I always appreciate the direct approach. Just ask him out for a drink. But make the time and place specific. For example, do NOT say, "Hey how about a drink some time?" That's too passive. Instead say, "Hey I've got free passes to an off-Broadway S&M adaptation of Hamlet on Friday. Wanna come?" If the guy wants to bang you, he'll say yes. If he says he has something that he "can't get out of" then he does not want to bang you. The benefit of the direct approach with a set time and place is that there is no room for either party to hide behind ambiguities and ambivalence. You will either get the date and get banged, or you will not get the date and not get banged.

Frankly, I ALWAYS use the direct approach. I like instant gratification. I don't like wondering, I just want to know. It sounds like you are seriously physically attracted so you should grab your balls and just lay your cards down on the spot.

Finally, remember that even if you get the nookie, you still have to work with the guy and there will probably be "issues" to deal with (if you are the typical woman when it comes to relationships). One way to neutralize this is to be up front from the get go and tell the guy that you just want sex and don't give a shit about anything else. I guarantee that this will get his attention, and will get you laid.

Peace out!

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I work at a company that has offices in New York and LA, and it's not uncommon for employees from LA to visit the NY office (and vice versa) for various work-related goings-on.

This past October my company hosted an exclusive event at the legendary "21 Club." At the party, I was introduced to one of our writers, Alex, who was in town from the LA office.

I've never particularly been a believer in "Love at first sight" (maybe because it's never happened to me), but I do believe in thinking a guy is gorgeous at first sight, and being instantly attracted. Surprise, surprise -- that's what happened when my eyes first laid sight on Alex.

We didn't talk for very long at the party, but it was long enough for me to be left thinking, Wowza. I figured Alex would probably be in the office the next day, and I was looking forward to it. Sure enough, he was, and when I saw him again I was equally as attracted. As for getting a chance to talk further, we exchanged small pleasantries in passing, but that was about it.

In a melancholy sort of way, I was glad when he left our office. Glad, because, well... I just knew it wouldn't be good workplace procedure to have such a distractingly attractive guy around. (Refer to my "Schoolgirl Office Crush" story for the illustrious details on how I came to acquire this sentiment.)

So Alex goes bye-bye, back to his office in LA. Gone, but not forgotten by little Miss Laura. Little Miss Laura, who has lived in the heart of Manhattan for many years now, and who had yet to meet a guy she was attracted to as much as Alex. But Alex is there, Laura is here, and anyway, who's to say he's even available? And so, life goes on for you, and me, and West Coast Alex.

My assistant job at the magazine entails a secondary role of overseeing the office, acting as sort of "Office Manager." In January (three months after I'd met Alex), a co-worker in the editorial department stopped me in passing to discuss office space. She told me one of the writers from LA was going to become "bicoastal," spending half his time in New York and half in LA. Immediately I thought of Alex -- he's a writer there!

Now wouldn't it be somethin' if it were him? Not sure if it would be a good thing or a bad thing, but it sure would be somethin'.

Ever so casually, I inquired, "Oh, really? Who?"

The woman replied, "Alex [So-and-so]."

Real time freezes. I get this vision that I'm on a game show, and bing! -- we hear the sound of a bell. I've just won the prize behind Door #3.

Oh my God! He's coming to our office! I can't believe it! He's coming to our office! That's incredible! That's amazing! This could be dangerous!

After calling upon my higher powers to grant me restraint, once again ever so casually, I replied, "Mmm, hmm... okay. I'll call Office Services and ask them to set up a space for Alex."

Plans indeed progressed for Alex to come to our office. A space was set up for him. Through the grapevine, I heard that his projected arrival date was April 1st.

Cold and blustery January and February days passed. Patiently, I waited. And I wondered. What's it going to be like when he gets here? Am I going to fall madly for him? Nah, maybe not. Maybe when I see him again, I won't even be attracted anymore....

Time has ticked ahead now, to late March. Boxes with his name on them have been arriving. As they do, I deposit them in his soon-to-be-occupied space.

In the history books of life, let me hereby mark the date of April 2, 2003 -- the day that Alex arrived in the New York office. Alex's co-worker friend brought him around, introducing him to us NY staffers. "Do you know Laura?" his friend asked when they stopped by my desk. "No, I don't think so," Alex replied.

With a coy smile and teasingly reproachful tone, I responded, "You know me!"

Oh, yes -- now he remembered. "I didn't recognize you at first!"

Yeah, well, I recognized you, and damn it, you're just as gorgeous now as you were six months ago.

Houston, we have a problem.

When Alex's introductions moved onward and I was left alone, I felt an overwhelming need to call someone pronto -- my good friend Alan came to mind. Alan is gay, and aside from discussing recent thrift shop finds, our other favorite topic of conversation is guys. He had already been fully informed of the "Alex coming to my office" situation.

I dialed his number. Please be there! Please pick up! "Hello?"

Fervently, I whispered into the phone, "Alan, oh my God! He's here, and he's gorgeous! What am I going to do?"

"The first thing you have to do is calm down. Calm down, Laura -- get a grip. It's going to be okay." A brief pause.

"Okay, okay... I'm calmed down. Now what?"

"Funny you should ask about something like this," Alan said, "because not too long ago I read this amusing article by Helen Gurley Brown [the editor of Cosmopolitan]. The article was advice to single women on how to win over the affections of a guy. The key point she made was, 'Don't flirt, just be adorable'."

"Oh..." I remarked, as I pondered this angle of approach. "Be adorable." Hmm... well, people tell me I'm "cute," so "being adorable" doesn't seem like it'd be too far a stretch. Yeah, I think I can be that!

My new mantra: "Be adorable! And remember -- no flirting."

That afternoon, I stopped by Alex's desk. "Hi," I said with a sweet smile, "I hope you're settling in okay. I just wanted to let you know that if you need any supplies, you should ask me, because I order the supplies for the office. Has someone shown you where we keep them?"

"No, why don't we look now?"

Merrily, I led him to the supply room. Vanna White-esque, I opened the cabinets and showed him the goods. After a brief run-through, I said, "If there's something you need that you don't see here, just let me know, and I'll special order it for you."

I thought for sure Alex would stop by later to take me up on the "special order" tidbit I'd craftily tossed to him, but by the end of the next day there was no Alex at my desk, needing that special something only I could get for him. Drats, I guess he has all the supplies he needs. 'Tis a shame, 'tis a shame indeed. We had no interactions at all on Thursday, and that, too, was a shame.

Oh, but wait! On Friday morning, Alex appeared at my desk. Mmm, hello! Aren't we looking ravishing today....

"Hi," Alex said. "I need..." Oh? What does thy fairest desire? "I need some pushpins, and a stapler. Could you order them for me?"

My heart was racing, but breezily I replied, "Oh, sure, no problem... I have some nice pushpins in mind... those silver metal ones." No cheapie colored plastic pushpins for you -- those are for the common folk, of which you are most certainly not!

I took out my supply catalog and flipped to the section on staplers. Taking his request quite seriously (stapler-ordering is serious business), I said, "For the stapler, I think we should go classic." Alex agreed that a black metal "Swingline" was a fine choice.

After he left, I realized I had forgotten to mention that the dividers around our desks are made of metal, so he would probably need some magnets as well. The only magnets the company carried were these highly unattractive ones that I just could not bring myself to order for His Royal Gorgeousness.

A year before I started working at the magazine they had purchased these really cool-looking magnets with our company logo on them, and leftovers were scattered throughout the office. I walked around, nonchalantly asking my co-workers if they had a magnet or two they could possibly spare. It worked like a charm -- I gathered a dozen or so in no time.

Alex was away from his desk when I dropped off the magnets and pushpins on Friday afternoon. I expected him to come over and thank me, but by the time I left for the weekend, I had yet to be graced by his presence.

The stapler arrived on Monday, and I dropped that off on his desk as well, once again when he wasn't there. I thought for sure he was going to come over and thank me, at any minute!

But nope. Nada. Nothin'. Not one itsy-bitsy teeny stopover while walking past my desk, or when getting a bottle of water from the closet near me -- he just grabbed a bottle and vanished from sight. I know that technically it's my job to order supplies, but c'mon -- show a little common courtesy -- everyone else does.

I was irked. Busy or not, he could have found two minutes in his day to say "Thank you." He's so not interested in me, or else he would have come by. So forget it -- I'm over him. I'm done, through, movin' on.

Later that afternoon, I was sitting at my desk, and who came over, but Alex! Part of me got all excited, but then I remembered I was over it.

Alex didn't start off saying, "Thank you" -- he started with, "I need." The audacity! Before he had a chance to tell me about his latest "need," acting disinterested and a tad peeved, I cut in, "Yeah? Whadda need now?"

In his cutesy way, he said, "Well... I need a... pencil cup."

Remember now, you're mad -- you're over him... oh, look -- he didn't shave today -- mmm, I like it. He's got that "just rolled out of bed look." I sure wouldn't mind rolling out of bed with him - and around in it too! Nice shirt -- gee, he really is a fabulous dresser....

I tried to stand my ground that I was over him. Very blasé, I replied, "What variety of pencil cup would you like?"

"Well," Alex responded enthusiastically, "You did such a great job with the pushpins and the magnets, and the stapler -- I'll let you choose!"

"Okay, fine." With a noticeable zing of reprimand in my tone, I continued, "But this time you have to say 'thank you.' You never thanked me for the other supplies." Meekly, Alex shook his head in acknowledgement and slinked away.

I couldn't decide which pencil cup to order, so I got two. When they arrived I placed the cups on Alex's desk when he wasn't there. I stepped away for a few minutes, and no sooner did I come back that I found the one he didn't want sitting on my desk, with a Post-it note on it that said, "Thank you."

He thanked me! Sigh. Smitten, all over again. Gosh, I wonder if he would ever like me? And I really wonder if he has a girlfriend?

An office pal of mine, Scott, knew Alex from a past job, and the two were friends. After discovering this I appointed Scott to be my "source." His ever-important mission was to find out if Alex had a girlfriend. This was crucial info! The word on the street was thus far there had been no mention of it.

One morning, I checked my Laura's NYC Tales e-mail, and found something new and hilarious from my e-mail pal Stefan. Whether it's a comment on a new story I've posted, or a detailed account of yet another of his outlandish sexcapades, his e-mails are crass as can be, but at the same time, brilliantly entertaining. This new e-mail showcased Stefan in his highest form. (If the name sounds familiar, it's because one of his e-mails is in "Licorice Rope," and another prefaces this story. Tell me he's not hilarious!)

I printed out the e-mail and walked over to Alex's desk. With a sly, knowing grin, I said, "I have something really funny to show you. I have this website, and a reader sent this to me...."

"You have a website? What's it about?"

"I write true stories about my life in New York City. So anyway, this guy sends me these e-mails, and they could horrify me, but they don't. Instead, I think they're hilarious."

I handed the printout to Alex, and delighted in watching the progression of his gestures as he read through it. They went from raised eyebrows to opened mouth, to head slowly shaking from side to side with eyes opened wide. When he finished reading we shared a big laugh. I told him I had another Stefan e-mail that was equally as unbelievable and funny. Alex was intrigued. Ha!

My "adorable act" with the supplies was okay, I suppose, but it didn't give me the breakthrough I was looking for. But what do you know -- a single tawdry e-mail did the trick! It broke the ice, and started a rapport between us.

I went back to my desk and printed out other "Stefan" e-mails and my replies to them. Devious smirk on my face, I handed the papers to Alex. In Stefan's first e-mail he had asked me for a date. I declined, explaining, "I prefer to not date people who have read my website, because it throws off the whole getting-to-know-you phase."

When Alex stopped by later, we chatted about crazy Stefan. In conversation, he said, "I want to read your website... but then we couldn't go out."

Oh... my gosh! Did he just say what I think he said?

On the inside I was reeling, Yow! Wow! Cat is almost in the bag! but on the outside I played it considerably cooler. I replied, "Well, it's a toss up, because if you see my website, then you'll be able to see how funny and creative I am."

Oh, what the hell. I reached into my wallet and handed him one of my business cards. He looked over the card, said he'd check out my site, and was soon on his happy-go-lucky way, leaving me in such a tizzy!

Little did Alex know the effect he'd come to have on me. I thought about him constantly -- from the minute I woke up, to when I was drifting off to sleep, to countless times in between. I couldn't get him out of my mind!

Maybe the next time he passes by my desk he'll come over and talk to me... that's always so great. It makes me feel so happy, so alive -- like I'm on Cloud Nine!

But, on the other side of the coin, when time after time he'd pass by without so much as an infinitesimal look my way, or, when he would reach into the closet near me to grab a water, and be there and gone without a hello, a good-bye, or any sort of acknowledgment, I'd feel bad. Very bad. Hey there, aren't you gonna say hi to me at all today? No? Oh, woe is me... is me... is me.

One quiet morning in the office, I was sitting at my computer, supposedly doing work, (but instead daydreaming about Alex). There he was down the hall, a mere stone's throw away -- so close, but yet so far....

How can I get him think to about me??? I know -- I'll send him an e-mail!

I think you'll agree that I did a good job of disguising my true intentions (a.k.a. lusty desires) when, fingers gliding over the keyboard, I tapped out and sent the following:

Dear Alex,

Just wondering if you will be keeping the listing of your name under the LA section of our directory, or if it should be listed in the NY section? And, if you have a NY extension, would you please let me know what it is? (The receptionist out front will need this info.)

Thanks,

Laura

Almost instantaneously, notification of a new message appeared on my screen. It was from him! Eyes riveted to the screen, I double-clicked on his reply, and gobbled up the text before me:

Hi Laura,

I'd like to be listed in both sections, if that's OK. My New York ext is 6386.

Thanks for taking care of this.

Alex

Sigh. I read it again. And again. And then once more, just to be certain I wasn't missing anything, like perhaps an intimation he'd carefully woven between the lines, hinting that he indeed liked me, too. But search as I may, I didn't discover anything revelatory. Oh, well, maybe next time.

We had a nice chat the following morning, which brightened me up like a thousand-watt bulb. Talking with him was just so... amazing. I was so completely head-over-heels that it was like I was... romantically obsessed or something.

Romantically obsessed? Did I just say, "Romantically obsessed?" Oh no! How could it be? How could I have let this happen?

"Alan, help! I think I've become romantically obsessed with Alex. What should I do?"

"For a start, you can come to a meeting with me tonight." Alan was referring, quite aptly, to the "Romantic Obsession" meeting he occasionally attends. (He doesn't go because he's romantically obsessed with someone - he just finds the subject matter intriguing.)

The next bit of advice Alan gave me was to "disengage." He ordered, "Stop sending him e-mails, stop printing out stories for him to read, and stop trying to engage him in conversation. Disengage. If he comes over to you to talk, fine, but don't be going over to him." Ugh -- such a cruel, heartless "business plan."

The next day, Alex stopped by the closet near my desk to get his daily water fix. When he looked at me, I quickly turned away without smiling or saying a word. And when he came over later to ask if I had any monitor cleaner, tempting me once again with those sultry bedroom eyes, I acted unfazed by his charms.

Yes, I was disengaging, but it was making me melancholy. Listlessly, I meandered into Scott's office. With a pout I said, "I don't think Alex likes me."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because if he did, I think I'd know it by now."

"But Laura," Scott reasoned, "it's only been two weeks!"

The following Monday, our department had a going-away lunch for one of our co-workers. When our group exited the building and headed toward the restaurant, somehow (yeah, we know how) I ended up walking next to Alex. I asked how furnishing his new apartment was coming along. He replied, "We got a sublet, so pretty much everything was already there."

Hmm, that's interesting -- he said, "We." We. You don't say "we" when you live with a friend or roommate and it's platonic, so "we" can only mean one of two things: #1. He's gay, and is referring to his boyfriend, or #2. He's referring to his girlfriend.

I highly doubted that Alex was gay, so that left... Option #2.

When our group of 20 arrived at the restaurant, I sat diagonally across from Alex. My boss sat nearby. He asked Alex how things were going, and how he was enjoying New York life. Alex replied, "Really good - my girlfriend and I are having a great time."

A snap of the fingers and -- poof! -- dazzling fantasy picture pops like a pinprick to a balloon, leaving the harsh glare of reality staring me in the face. Reality, don't stare at me! I like fantasy better (at least in this case).

Getting back to unavoidable reality, I wasn't devastated. In fact, I was fine. No more struggling to figure things out, 'cause there was nothing to figure.

After lunch, I walked back to the office with Scott. "Guess what I found out? Alex has a girlfriend that he lives with! You let me down -- you were supposed to be my Source."

"I'm sorry... Laura, did anyone ever tell you never to run for a bus?"

"No, why?"

"Because there will always be another."

"Yeah, I know. I know there will be another. But I doubt he'll be as cute as Alex."

For that, well... we'll just have to wait and see.

Epilogue

Alex graced us with his presence during the months of April, May and June, 2003. But come July, he was gone. Desk empty. Moved back to the West Coast, magnets and all.

Heard from a co-worker friend of his that he "thought too many New Yorkers were depressed," and that "no one wanted to have any fun."

It's not even two years after September 11th, and the economy continues to keep a multitude of people out of work -- which doesn't make for the most joyous of times. What did he think, that we'd all be dancing on the tables, partying until dawn? Sorry, but we're not there yet.

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From: Laura's NYC Tales <laura@laurasnyctales.com>
To: [Alex]
Subject: You've been immortalized!

Hey there,

I just finished the conclusion to my latest story, which is about... you!

Named you Alex. So, Alex, if you're curious, check out the following:

http://www.laurasnyctales.com/boysagas/zero.html

Hope you're enjoying beachfront life.

All the best,

Laura

P.S. I'm actually very glad for this story. After September 11th, my stories got so heavy (understandably). This is the first one I've written since then that has inspired me to bring back my light-hearted and quirky old self.

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From: [Alex]
To: Laura's NYC Tales <laura@laurasnyctales.com>
Subject: Re: You've been immortalized!

Clever, well-done and of course, very flattering. You can use my real name if you want. But more importantly, have you ever considered getting off the web and into, um, print? There's a market for what you do. The women's magazines might be a little stultifying, but why not a novel?

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